


We'll Have This Summer Night

by snarry_splitpea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Facials, Frottage, Gay For You, Guilt, Guilty Pleasures, M/M, Masturbation in Bathroom, Outdoor Sex, Praise Kink, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-01 08:46:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8617417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarry_splitpea/pseuds/snarry_splitpea
Summary: After his divorce from one member of the Golden Trio, Viktor Krum finds that he can't disentangle his life from the three.  Ron, ostensibly straight by all accounts, is highly uncomfortable with how much Viktor's continued presence at family gatherings and social events pleases him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Minshinki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minshinki/gifts).



Ron and Harry had discussed this.  What they'd do if Viktor broke Hermione's heart.  How they'd hex him into the previous week to let their past selves beat him up for even thinking about making her cry. They'd planned to shun him from their friend group. From their families.  He'd never be welcome in London, again!  If Viktor Krum had broken Hermione's heart, they'd been fully prepared to make the retired quidditch star pay. 

What they hadn't prepared for and never could have anticipated was the hollow expression on Viktor's face as he arrived for Ginny and Harry's wedding rehearsal.  His usually kind smile lacked heart and the dark circles around his eyes were evidence of his fatigue.  The soft-spoken rumble of his voice sent a shiver through Ron as the man pulled Harry into a congratulatory hug. Ron stood awkwardly to the side as he watched Viktor's broad hand rub up and down his friend's back.  Watched Harry playfully ruffle the other man's hair.  Warming up to him in an instant when they'd promised to be "civil at best" towards their best friend's ex-husband.

Viktor was tentative as he approached Ron, having sensed the redhead's ire.  With a sigh and another dead smile, this one seeming resigned and defeated, Viktor stuck out his hand instead of opening his arms for a hug he was sure Ron wouldn't give him.

Ron tried to ignore the reproachful look Harry gave him as he slowly lifted his own hand to meet Viktor's.

Ron knew Viktor hadn't broken Hermione's heart.

Knew that Hermione was currently in the den having the time of her life. Happy to be free from what she considered the constraints of marriage.

Knew Ginny wanted Viktor at her wedding. That, though he hadn't said so yet, Harry did too.

Knew he was being petty and childish.

Ron took Viktor's hand, stiffly.  Gave it a single, firm shake. Glared when their eyes met over their still clasped fingers.

"I've missed you, Ronald," Viktor said with more warmth in his voice than his waning smile could convey.  They'd been friends, once.  Before he'd proposed to Hermione. "Seven years is a long time to be ignored by someone you care about."

Ron slid his hand out of Viktor's grip with some difficulty.  He could tell Viktor was trying to hold onto him.  To make him finally say something.  He refused to be influenced by the imploring gaze and compelling tone of voice.  Stubborn as always, Ron told himself that the way his heart clenched at the words was a symptom of his anger.  Anger he'd held onto for seven years over a man he thought was his friend making off with the girl he thought was his future wife.  He scolded himself for not letting go.  He'd heard it so many times, already, from others.  Reprimanding words about his obsession with Hermione.

And, lately... encouragement to try again.  To reign in what his mother referred to as her "wild spirit."  Ron told himself that his lack of desire to do so after years of pining was respect.  For Hermione's desires. The wildness that wizarding women frowned upon was what had saved the world.  The ability to be self-sufficient.  The confidence to face things, preferably with friends, but easily alone.  Hermione was not at all like Ron's mother.  Not a nurturer. She was like the sun.  Needed by everyone around her for sustenance and full lives, but herself, untouchable.  And happily so.

There was another part of Ron, though.  A part of him that he fought to kill at random intervals because he knew it had to be some sickness.  Though mild and mostly hidden, there was part of Ron that couldn't help but acknowledge how he thrilled at the thickness of Viktor's fingers whenever they clasped around his own.  How cold his hand felt once he'd let go of Krum's ever-present heat.  

How he'd avoided hugging Viktor for seven fucking years because -Merlin help him- he couldn't stand what that heat had always made him feel when wrapped around his body.

 

* * *

 

Ron found it surprisingly easy to talk to Hermione as the two of them stood by Harry's side at the rehearsal. Much to Molly's chagrin, the couple hadn't split their wedding party by gender for the sake of photos and tradition.  Instead, Ginny had her brothers lined up to her right, except Ron.  Harry had Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Neville lined up to his left.  They'd even forgone the tradition of 'best man' and 'maid of honor' because it put a bad taste in both their mouths to somehow try and rank their loved ones.  Also, because Molly had done most of the work involved in getting the two of them hitched.

He wasn't surprised because they no longer talked.  In fact, he'd reconciled his feelings for her long before her divorce.  He just imagined that standing next to her at another wedding, even if this one wasn't her own, would be too painful a reminder of his past feelings.  His heart had ached as he watched her approach Viktor, that day.  Sealing shut the only path he'd seen his future climbing toward.  Once Hermione and Viktor wed, Ron had had to reevaluate what he even wanted out of his future.

He remembered Viktor's eyes sparkling with unshed tears of joy.  The way the man smiled at his bride with all his teeth.  Every bit of the reserve Ron had always known Krum to have had dissipated.  His happiness palpable to everyone in the room.  Ron's jealousy had flared at that wedding.  This time, all he felt was joy.  He knew that, come the next afternoon, watching his sister marry his best friend would brighten him. Seeing his sister safe in the arms of a man he admired, loved, and trusted, would be the best experience of his adult life.  In adulthood, as in childhood, Ron's good experiences seemed to only be extensions of the lives Harry and Hermione led.

He smiled at Hermione as she gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze.  She'd known how much he felt like a sidekick to them both.  Had encouraged him to find his own way.  Live up to his own standards with her and Harry's help.

Ron didn't know what he wanted.

Ron knew one thing he didn't want.

He didn't want to look out into the rehearsal's guests and find Viktor's smiling eyes on him.  He didn't want to feel his spirit bolstered by Hermione's warm hand and Viktor's discreet thumbs-up.  He didn't want to weakly smile back.  But, without thinking about it, he did.  Viktor's expression changed from encouraging to shocked.  Ron had ignored him for seven long years.  Ron watched as the man's hand went to his own chest as if to still a too fast heart.  Watched Viktor's eyebrows lose their usually intense crease and the smile return.  Warmer.  Relieved.

Ron took a deep breath and turned his attention to Harry.  At least Harry's smiling eyes didn't make his chest feel uncomfortably full and confused.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The rehearsal dinner wasn't quite what Ron had expected. Molly, probably at Ginny's urging, hadn't used one of the large tables underneath the tent outside their house. Instead, she'd covered every surface in the kitchen with buffet style dishes and instructed all guests to conjure their own plates and utensils and then disperse. This meant that Harry and Ginny got to disappear for the evening and their guests got to mingle with one another.

Which would have been fine with Ron if Hermione hadn't immediately disappeared with Luna who was, frankly, too energetic for him at the moment. What he wanted was to sit quietly, eat his food, and go to bed, early. He had a busy day ahead, after all.

The living room immediately filled with the oldest people in their families. Ron wandered in balancing a plate on one arm while another plate and a glass of water floated behind him. The moment he entered, a barrage of smiles and questions hit him.  The energy instantly overwhelming.  He'd backed out with a nervous chuckle and several apologies.  His plans for marriage? How was his job going?  Could he at least have a few grandkids, soon? Run.

The front yard and upstairs rooms held miscellaneous children in various states of play.  The stairs were occupied by teenagers hoping to whisper behind their parents backs about rules they'd broken. Whispers that came to a hush when Ron tried to settle there.

While desperate for a place to sit, he knew his mother would chase him out of the kitchen and a bathroom, while clean, just didn't feel right for dining.  Finally realizing he just didn't want to be around people at all, Ron discreetly slid out of the back door and tramped across his yard.  The space had been forbidden by Molly because she didn't want anyone to ruin the wedding set-up.

Though, considering the wards didn't block him out.  Only warned him not to touch anything, we pushed forward.

The moon was heavy and bright in the sky.  Illuminating the decor and tent in a way that made Ron want to just sit outside on one of the chairs and eat while staring up at it.  Instead, he thought it best not to push his luck.  All he needed was to have his relaxing meal interrupted by a relative or, heaven forbid, a GROUP of relatives that had seen him through a window.

Ron pushed a tent flap aside with his wand and stepped into tomorrow's reception area.  He turned slightly to allow his drink and extra plate float in past him and then closed the flap, retying the loose knot, outside, with a spell.

Inside, he spotted fine china, crystal chandeliers, napkins folded to look like leaping gryphons, and Viktor Krum.  Sitting alone at a table in the back with three plates of food and an entire bottle of wine.

"You were sent to retrieve me," Viktor asked.  His voice sounding resigned to a fate he didn't want.

"Didn't know you were here," Ron responded.  Trying to figure out if it would seem too childish for him to sit ten meters away from the other man with his back turned. "Came here to be alone, though."

"So did I," Krum said. "But, ah... it would be rude of me not to offer you a seat."

Viktor stood and pulled back the seat next to him.  If they were going to ruin a table setting, it made sense for it to be one in the back and only half of it.  Ron sucked in a breath between his teeth when he saw the fit of Viktor's ratty t-shirt and denim pants.  Muggle clothing always showed far too much and Ron couldn't help but feel guilty for looking. He could see every curve and plane of his old friend's muscles beneath the pale, grey cotton and dark jeans. Ron moved his eyes to the table in front of Viktor.

"I'd never force you to be polite," Ron offered.  Wondering if Viktor wanted to remain alone as much as he did.  He figured, between the two of them, they could figure out how to replicate place settings so Molly wouldn't know they'd been there.

Viktor chuckled.  The movement making his pecs rise and fall in a way that caught Ron's eye.  Just as Ron considered leaving, his stomach rumbled loudly and the outburst of a laughing group sifted to them from the house.

"You could never force me to do anything," Viktor said with emphasis on the words "You" and "Me."  He gestured to the seat with his free hand.  Patted the back of the chair with the other.  Ron wondered if the man would continue leaning over the chair as he sat in it.  Took a step forward because an excuse to brush up against Viktor tempted him against his will.

"Thank you," Ron said as he approached the back of the tent.  He'd managed to avert his eyes, again, but couldn't stop his heart from beating.  He allowed his dishes to precede him.  Including the plate he'd held in his arm.  They settled on the table next to Viktor's meal and a gryphon napkin stepped tentatively forward to sniff his desserts.

Viktor scolded the napkin, picking it up and sitting it on the other side of the table.  Sufficiently cowed, the napkin curled up with another gryphon and seemed to immediately doze. 

Ron glared at the display and realized he'd had a flare of jealousy at seeing two napkins cuddle up with one another.  He'd been lonely for far too long.

Sure enough, Viktor did remain poised over Ron's chair and even pushed it in as Ron's side slid against him.  The heat Ron had been avoiding had licked against his shoulder blade and now sat next to him.  Far too close.

"Wine?" Viktor asked, already conjuring a glass for Ron to drink from.

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "Thanks."

* * *

Viktor smelled of fire whiskey, wine, firewood, and some delightfully musky cologne that Ron assumed, but didn't want to admit, was probably just Viktor's sweat.  They'd never been around each other during a hot Summer night.  Never sat near each other with so few layers of clothing between them.

Ron shuddered at the direction his thoughts were going.  They'd eaten in silence for a solid half-hour, Viktor swaying slightly in his chair.  His arm brushing against Ron's as he teeter tottered.  Probably without realizing it, Viktor had hummed a few times.  Popular love songs Ron was familiar with and slower songs Ron had never heard.  Snippets of, admittedly nice, music in Viktor's creamy rumble of a voice.  As the wine bottle neared emptiness, Viktor pushed a flask to Ron's lips and lyrics slipped from his own.  Bulgarian. Something lilting though upbeat.  Ron's eyes slid over and noticed the lazy smile on his friend's face as he gulped from the offered flask.

Once Viktor pulled the flask away, the singing stopped because he'd pushed it to his own lips.

"Did you know you've been singing, mate?"

"Mate," Viktor blinked as he closed the flask to stick it back into his pocket.  Latching onto the least important bit of Ron's question with his drunken mind. "Are we mates, again?"

"I..." Ron's mind was foggier than he'd meant to let it become.  "When did you stop thinking of me as a friend?"

"Never?  As soon as you did?  I don't know. When did you?"

Viktor turned to stare at the side of Ron's face, leaning closer.  His breath sweet and tickling Ron's cheek as it rustled through his shaggy, red hair.  Ron scrunched his brow.  Concentrating as hard as he could.  What did he think of Viktor Krum?  There was some wall missing in his mind, he felt.  The kind that let him box Viktor in and call the man an enemy. Now, all he knew was warm scents, warm voice, and a warm arm bumping against his own.

"Doesn't matter," Ron finally decided. "We're mates."

Viktor let his head lean forward, pressing his face into Ron's shoulder.  Ron could feel the wetness of Viktor's lips through his dress shirt and idly wondered if the white fabric might end up stained with wine.  He only had the one.  He'd feel guilty asking his mother to attend to a stain in the morning before the wedding when she already had too much to do.  He could handle a dirty shirt, on his own.  The sweat of the evening, he knew exactly the spell for.  Ron reached over and pulled Viktor's head away from him using Viktor's dark hair.  At Ron's urging, Viktor sat up.

When Ron started unbuttoning his shirt, Viktor chuckled.

"A man thinks many things when his hair is pulled by someone before they start undressing," Viktor said.

Ron's fingers paused on his middle button.

"Just... don't want to ruin my shirt," he glanced over and saw that Viktor had turned toward him and draped his left arm over the back of his own chair. Leaning back and with his legs spread, the man was a distracting sight.

"By all means, continue," Viktor lightly gestured with his hand. His eyes were on the flushed skin Ron's stupid decision had already revealed.

"No, I..." Ron couldn't quite find the logic that had lead to him attempting to remove his shirt in the first place and, now, it felt... sexual.  As if he were trying seduce the man.  Ron's mind tried to pipe up that, had he wanted to seduce Viktor, he seemed to be succeeding.  Viktor had licked his lips as he watched Ron pull his hands away from his shirt.  His face had fallen in disappointment. 

"Ronald," Viktor started.  Ron always liked it when Viktor called him that.  Hated when anyone else did. "Do you need my help?  Would you be more comfortable if I undressed, too?"

Ron's mind seemed to blank.  Overwhelmed so easily by the idea of Viktor touching his abdomen. Pulling his tucked shirt out of his slacks.  Topless.  Dimly aware that his head moved, Ron wasn't sure what he'd gestured.  A nod?  Oh, Merlin, not a nod! Hopefully, he'd shaken his head.  A solid no.

Judging by Viktor's soft smile and the way he sat up to pull his t-shirt over the back of his head, Ron had truly fucked up.  It wasn't until Viktor had leaned forward, one arm going around the back of Ron's chair while the other reached down his front to untuck his shirt that Ron thought to move.

Instead of jumping out of his seat, he only managed to kick himself backwards an inch.  HIs chair scooting against the grass.  Digging in deeper and getting stuck there.

"Do you want me to stop?" Came Viktor's voice in a soft whisper directly against Ron's ear.  Ron whimpered without meaning to.  Viktor's lips had brushed his earlobe.  His breath was hot and wet in his ear.  Shooting pleasure though his body like nothing had in years.  He did not want Viktor to stop... but he also didn't want Viktor to know he liked it.  Already knew that Viktor knew.  How? 

Ron finally shot out of the chair, his limbs trembling.  He finished unbuttoning his own shirt in record speed and tossed the fabric onto the table.  Palms sweating and body so full of energy that he couldn't help but fidget as he stood there, Ron let a peal of hysterical laughter bubble out of him.

Viktor groaned at the loss and sat back in his own chair.

"You're much more muscular, now," Krum commented as if he hadn't just tried to eat Ron alive. "I'd love to play with you and see what you can do, these days."

Ron's mind went straight to bedroom games before he realized Viktor probably meant quidditch.

"Yeah, sure," Ron agreed.

"How about next week?"

"You'll be here, next week?"

"I can be.  Or you can be in Bulgaria. My treat," Viktor shrugged.

Ron irked at the casual way Viktor implied his open schedule and wealth. "I'd hate to beat you in quidditch after you've portkeyed me to your own backyard."

"I'm sure you could make it u..." Viktor's flirtation was cut off by Ron's shirt leaping from the table.  The two men scrambled for wands as they watched tow of the gryphon napkins tugging the garment along at breakneck speed.  Before either of them could fondle through the miscellany of dishes to find their wands, the two creatures had already slipped out of the tent.  Viktor pushed past Ron to walk across the reception hall and open the tent flap.  He watched the shirt retreat into the woods.

They spent the next several minutes shooting vague accio spells toward the woods. Nothing ever came.

"Do you know the brand of the shirt?"

"My mom made it."

"Oh..." Viktor frowned.  If Ron used the spell with the wrong description, they'd have half the objects in his house floating out to meet them.

"What about the napkins?"

"Pretty sure they're constructs."

"Fuck," Viktor cursed. That meant they'd probably already dissolved and the shirt was laying in the dirty forest with no way to be retrieved.  That also meant he and Ron had no way of constructing new napkins...unless.

"Do you know how to make a gryphon napkin, by any chance?"

"Honestly, I was going to ask you," Ron groaned.  This was turning about to be a terrible night.  He'd gone from drunk to horny to stressed out far too quickly and his nerves were starting to fray.

"As smart as she is, I doubt Hermione does."

"Too domestic," Ron agreed. Hermione had probably received a book or two with domestic spells from Molly.  Had likely tossed said books onto shelves to collect dust.

"I can bring you a shirt for the wedding if you didn't bring any extras," Viktor offered.  He, as well as any of Ron's close friends, knew that Ron probably didn't own a second dress shirt.  Ron was thankful that he didn't imply that knowledge in his words, though.

"I don't think it will fit," Ron replied, realizing with a grunt that he'd forgotten the most important part. "But, ah, thank you."

"Nonsense," Viktor smiled as he reached out to run a hot hand along Ron's shoulder and down his arm.  Squeezing intermittently as he went.  "You'll fill it out, nicely, and I know a good spell for shortening the hem and sleeves."

Viktor then accio'd his own t-shirt from the corner and passed it to Ron.  "I've got the access to apparate into my hotel room, from here.  You, however, don't need to pop into a shared bedroom, topless. I've got internet in the hotel and can find out how to make the napkins.  We can look for your shirt after the wedding and I'm sure we can clean it before Molly ever finds out we're idiots."

Gratitude welled up in Ron.  His mind had immediately scattered into a future where his mother nagged him, forever, about how he ruined his sister's wedding and Viktor's cool head saved him from that in an instant.  Viktor and Hermione had made a good pair.  Viktor was hard to rattle and Hermione had her muggle instincts in a crisis.  After all, while the two of them had scrambled for wands, she would have just stomped on the shirt to stop the napkins from running off with it.  She'd probably also find the right words to accio the napkins before they'd gotten past the wedding's perimeter and faded into nothing.

Viktor suddenly grabbed Ron around the back of his neck, pulling him forward.  Ron's mind boggled, again.  Was he about to be kissed? Was he against the idea? Ron melted into the touch and felt a whiff of disappointment when Viktor pressed their foreheads together and clapped his other hand against Ron's back. Jovial. Brotherly.

"Everything is going to be fine, my friend!  Get some rest and we'll attend this happy wedding, tomorrow!" Viktor encouraged him.  Before Ron could reply, Viktor turned with a spell to clear and mostly reset their ruined table, spelled his t-shirt onto Ron's half-naked body, and apparated away.

Ron stood in the tent smelling strongly of Viktor's admittedly arousing musk and popped into the bedroom he was to share with Harry and Neville.  Ever the traditional mother, Molly refused to let Harry and Ginny sleep in the same bed at her house despite the fact that the two had lived together for years.

Much to his surprise, his two roommates were already fast asleep.

He wondered how long he'd sat outside listening to Viktor hum and sing.  Surely it hadn't been so pleasurable that they'd both lost track of time?

He peeked out into the hallway and saw that, other than the soft, floating lights Molly had laid down to lead guests to the bathroom, the house was still and dark.


	3. Chapter 3

Confident he'd appreciate the extra minutes of sleep while the rest of the house scrambled to get ready in the morning, Ron collected what necessities he could find in the dark to avoid waking his friends and left the bedroom for a shower.  Though he did lament the impending loss of Viktor's scent on his skin.

Ron eyed his own reflection.  Took note of shaggy hair that, tickled the back of his neck, dangled past his earlobes, and got tangled in his eyelashes. He sighed at freckles from far too many sunburns and blemishes from far too many battles.  Ron ignored the pale scars snaking around his forearms and instead focused on Viktor's threadbare, grey tee.

He saw how the shirt gripped his biceps the way it did Viktor's. Noted that while it flagged around his waist, it clung to his chest.  Had he really filled out enough to -just barely- fit such an impressive man's clothing?  Ron reached behind himself to pull the shirt taut around his mid-section, imagining himself with the same tree-trunk waist his friend had.  He pictured stacked abs and pronounced deltoids.  He envisioned rippling back muscles and hard thighs.  Ron shuddered as he imagined what those thighs looked like, naked.  Viktor had never been shy around Ron.  Ron had just always looked away.

Alone in the cramped bathroom, pulling Viktor's shirt over his head, memories of the Bulgarian's taller and wider body made him firm in a place better left flaccid.  Unthinking, Ron held the shirt to his nose as he unbuttoned his slacks with a free hand.  He devoured those same scents; fire whiskey, wine, firewood, and musk.  All warmth.  All intoxication.  Instead of pulling his pants down his hips to divest himself of them and complete his task of getting clean, Ron reached into them.  Gripped himself through his underwear.  Felt his cock hardening beneath caressing fingers as he pictured Viktor's nude form.

He took another deep breath, his nose drawing in his old friend's arousing aroma.  The breath left him in a moan as he leaned back against the bathroom door and slid his hand past the last layer of clothing.  Touching himself and imagining what would happen if he were less hesitant.  How Viktor might hold him.  Kiss him. Mark him with sucking lips and nipping teeth.

Ron didn't want to be this turned on.

Didn't want to think of any man this way.  He didn't like that it was not only a friend that tempted him beyond reason but a friend's ex-husband, too.  There was guilt fluttering through his consciousness, making him harder for all the taboos.  He let his fingers slide through the precum dribbling from his tip and coated his length as he took himself fully in hand.  Pulling himself out to be stroked harder.  He wanted the heat of friction to instead be Viktor's mouth.  Wanted to see Viktor hard and craving him.  Imagined one of those thick, blunt fingers breaching him from behind.

He idly considered fingering himself at that very moment.  After all, he often did.  Got off while gasping from the feigned intrusion of imaginary lovers. This time, however, he wanted to keep the shirt against his face.  Imagine he was pressing against Viktor's sparsely haired chest.  Imagined his mouth around pebbled, brown nipples.  Imagined wrapping a hand around the back of Viktor's head and pulling on hair that the man no longer kept in a buzzcut but instead allowed to grow into a thick, short layers with a tapered nape.  Ron wanted that stark, black hair clasped in his fingers as he tilted his head up to bite into Viktor's throat.

Wanted to hear Viktor groan and call him some dirty name in his mother tongue.

He wanted to be rough with the man.  Have the man be rough with him in return.  Pretend their shared moments were some kind of sick competition and not Ron acting on a decade of fiercely contained lust.

He'd thought himself curious about Viktor's body out of some sporting interest, at Hogwarts.  Had stared too long.  Too fondly.  Collected posters, pendents, and caps.  He'd even discreetly kept a moving photo of Viktor's half-nude form stretched out along a locker room bench in what was still one of Witch Weekly's most controversial male pin-up shoots.  Considering quite a few of the quidditch stars featured were barely adults.

Ron fought off the memory of Viktor and Hermione's wedding night.  The night when he'd stomped back into his own empty flat and burned the carefully folded magazine pages while wishing he could hex the man they portrayed.  He'd tried so hard to not think too much on why he'd nixed Viktor's image from his albums, framed photos, and secret stashes and not Hermione's.  Why he'd never owned an image of Hermione that was worth hiding in the first place.

Ron's hand slid up his shaft, yanking him past the point of no return, and rushed back down to hold him at his base as he sent jizz splattering across the tiled, bathroom floor.  A small desire of his lust-addled mind made him speak into the shirt he still clutched.  Still imagined was some part of Viktor pressed against his face.

"I love you, Vik.  Love you so fucking much. Always have."

It felt good to say.  Impossibly good.

And Ron hated it.


	4. Chapter 4

Ron woke up to the scent of Viktor. Echoes of their imagined love-making fading from his mind. With a moan, he curled the quidditch star's ragged tee tighter around his forearm and pressed it against his face.  Breathing deeply, Ron stretched his whole body.  Soon after, he was completely still except for his mattress shifting under the weight of someone taking a seat beside him.

"We've got work to do. The rest of the house is already awake," came Viktor's soft voice and Ron immediately leapt from dozing to fully alert. Heart thrumming erratically.  Sadly, his arm was still wrapped in the shirt and there was no way to conceal it other than to hide under his blanket.  So, hide, he did.

"Don't worry, Ronald, I've already seen how much you missed me," Viktor chuckled, reaching underneath the thin blanket to pull the t-shirt out.  Ron let it go while blinking up at Viktor in the dim sunlight.  Even with the curtains partially drawn, he knew the sun was only just rising.  Without Viktor's scent pressed against his face, he could smell his mother's cooking.  Bacon frying.  Bread baking.

And this time, the scent on Viktor's actual body was masked by his clothing.  Ron wasn't comfortable enough to let his eyes linger on Viktor's dress-robes.  Especially not with the man so close and facing him.

He reached for the walls in his mind that allowed him to think of Viktor as an enemy.  Still gone.  Apparently, he couldn't whisper confessions during an orgasm and, later, continue to fool himself.  The days of Viktor only getting silent glares from Ron were over.

"Can you step out, mate? I've gotta get dressed," Ron asked as Viktor made no move to leave his side. His bed.

"I know you were drunk, last night," Viktor started, his dark eyes fixed on Ron's worried face.  Ron squirmed, realizing that with Viktor sitting on his blanket, it wasn't exactly easy to move.  He didn't want to have any sort of conversation about last night. "I hope you won't let what... didn't happen bother you, today.  It's time to celebrate Harry and Ginevra.  No worried little faces at the altar."

Ron nearly groaned.  Perhaps Hermione and Viktor hadn't worked because they were too similar.  Getting under his skin with their perceptiveness and eagerness to instruct others.  In fact, Viktor was so spot on that the little string of anxiety that had begun to fizzle through Ron's chest died out, right then.  They rarely survived when pulled into the spotlight, for which Ron was grateful.

As for what... didn't happen... Ron remembered his disappointment at not being manhandled.  Not being kissed. It made him all the guiltier that, in his mother's house of all places, he was thinking about how much he wanted this man to lean over him, wrap an arm around his swaddled body, and nip at his neck before he got out of bed. Even worse was the way Viktor stared at him in the low light.  He was almost sure Viktor wanted to eat him as much as he wanted to be eaten.

"So, I've got to at least get out of bed," Ron said.  Hoping that was all that needed saying.  Couldn't Viktor leave?  Give him a chance to truly collect his thoughts? 

"None of the bathrooms are free, yet," Viktor assured him.  Probably referencing the insane amount of guests that required bathing, considering Ron was the last one out of bed.

"Showered, last night."

"Well, was it smart to cuddle with my dirty garments after doing so much work to seem clean?"

"I..." Ron didn't know what to say to that.  He was sure there was some double-entandre he was missing. Perhaps some Bulgarian thing that was lost in translation. Was Viktor leaning closer to him?  He couldn't tell.  The other man's presence was always a little stifling.  Viktor's strong body just took up so much space.  With the room dark, he could almost pretend Viktor was close enough to kiss. Ron pushed up on his elbows, sitting up and, in bumping foreheads, realized Viktor had indeed been leaning over him.

With his face inches closer, Viktor did not move back.

"Do you want me to stand up? Leave the room?"

Ron wanted to immediately say a flat "no."  Yet, he liked the way Viktor's breath, minty and sweet with remnants of sugared tea tickled his nostrils.  He liked Viktor's dark eyes constantly scanning his face.  He liked this man a great deal and wanted to keep his attention a little while longer.  He was also a terrible liar. So, he tried to convince Viktor to leave on his own.

"Mum might have noticed the clock.  That you're in here, with me."

Viktor looked slightly taken aback. Ron's words were an indication that he knew, as well as Viktor, that there was something unsavory, between them.  Well, delightfully savory.  Just not something Mrs. Weasley would approve of. "Your mother won't look at that clock until the wedding's over. She doesn't care where you are when her grandchildren are running circles around her feet."

"Hermione, then."

Much to Ron's surprise, mention of Hermione only made Viktor's slight smile turn devious.  His voice lowered.  Flirtatious and stirring. "Do you mean to tell me it wouldn't excite you for Hermione to know we're together?  To try and guess what we're doing, alone in a bedroom, and why it's taking so long?"

Ron could do nothing but suck in a shocked breath at Viktor's words.  Merlin, the guilt hit him so hard and brought arousal with it. He loved the idea.  Hermione hadn't exactly broken his heart.  From what he could tell, she hadn't exactly broken Viktor's.  ...but there was some sinful part of him that wanted her to wonder if the two of them had been together, all along.  To doubt she'd been the one with all the power in both relationships. To finally doubt that they worshiped her.

Of course, there was a small, scared part of Ron that knew Hermione wouldn't wonder for long.  That she'd walk right up to them and ask.  That they'd tell her the truth because, delicious taboos that made cocks ache for contact weren't delicious enough to make either of them throw out a good friendship.

"You feel it, yes?" Viktor asked.  His face close to Ron's and tilting sideways.  "Don't lie to me, dear Ronald.  I've always seen it in your face and it hurts to ignore it while I smell myself on you. You want this. Please, tell the truth."

Ron gulped.  A stray thought poking him about his morning breath. He wanted so many things.  All of them clambering through his skull and making him dizzy at Viktor's words.  "I'm not doing this to make Hermione jealous, you know."

"I know. I couldn't do that to her, either. Couldn't do it at all if I thought she'd care," Viktor had paused when Ron spoke.  Ron, having seen a the flicker of doubt on Viktor's face, fretted that Viktor would decide not to kiss him, after all. Viktor breathed deeply as if fortifying himself. "And...what it is that you're doing?"

Ron pushed up just enough to wrap an arm around Viktor and pull the man down with him as he settled back into the mattress.  The Bulgarian ended up turning his body fully toward Ron, pressing a knee into the blanket and pulling himself to the center of the bed.  As their lips met, Viktor threw a leg over Ron's prone form and one of his hands found Ron's hip.  Holding him steady for a bit of friction.

Viktor's style of kissing was demanding, deliberate, and slow.  He sank his tongue deep into Ron's mouth, forcing Ron to deal with its girth.  To suck at it like a cock.  He moaned into Ron's open mouth as the redhead put both his hands on the sides of Viktor's face, pushed him up and took his moment of freedom to nip at Viktor's lips.  Sharp, little bites.  Soft, playful, and deceptively confident. Ron was a good kisser and obviously knew it.

Viktor shoved his tongue back in, slowly pushed it forward, and dragged it out. The sensation wet and languid on the nerves just inside Ron's bottom lip.  Viktor reveled in the way Ron sucked at him.  This time hard enough to send sharp sensations through the tastebuds at the tip of his tongue.

Ron felt giddy when Viktor groaned against him. Fear of what might be expected of him when the kiss ended tangled with his desire to draw out Viktor's pleasure.  To make the stronger, bigger, and more beautiful man desire him.  To find some equal footing with the sports god he'd worshiped for over a decade.  Again, he pushed Viktor's face back with his hands, but this time he pressed chaste pecks along the quidditch star's cheeks, nose, and chin.

Ron, with a twinge of something like gratitude, realized he didn't feel awkward with Viktor's heavy body on top of him.  Didn't feel self-conscious as the other man melted into his kisses.  For all the years of build up, this didn't feel explosive and new.  In so many ways, kissing Viktor simply felt right.  Comfortable as if they'd done it every day since they met.  He idly wondered if Viktor had imagined this, before.  If Viktor felt the same sense of homecoming and relief.

"We can't do more than this.  Fuck, Vik.  I need to get dressed.  I've got so much to do, today," Ron complained between kisses.  He was growing hard beneath the single layer of the woven, summer blanket. He knew Viktor, straddling and grinding against him, could feel it.  Was sure he felt Viktor's arousal growing as well. Ron's belly quaked with pleasure and nerves as Viktor continued to rub their cocks together through blanket and clothes.  Ron's voice came out in a desperate whine followed by several moans.  He'd wanted this for ages.  Wanted more. "Fuck you for letting me do this. Fuck you for humping me. Stop!"

At Ron's pleading, Viktor froze his own hips.  Though, he did laugh heartily at Ron's desperation.  The sound uncharacteristically jolly.  Bright. Immediately reminding Ron of the wedding day he'd fought so hard to forget.  No. No. No.  He didn't want to picture Hermione in White.  Didn't want to remember Viktor beaming at her as she marched down the aisle.  How had the two of them not worked out? They'd been so happy.  Were still so comfortable around one another. Still so supportive.

Something must of shown on Ron's face as he forced images of the pair at miscellaneous family gatherings from his mind.

"What's wrong?" Viktor's free hand shot into Ron's hair. Pushing the shaggy strands out of the redhead's face so he could get a better look. Ron hated that Viktor could always sense his mood and never shied away from reacting to the shifts.

"It's fine. I'm fine," Ron lied.  His hands were still on Viktor's cheeks and he moved a thumb to rub against the man's lips.  Watched as Viktor's eyes closed at the sensation.

"You're lying, my dear," Viktor whispered against Ron's stroking thumb. "You can be honest with me.  I can figure out how to make it better."

Ron continued to stroke Viktor's lips.  Marveling at how Viktor's eyes remained closed and his lips parted as if he could multiply the sensation if he just focused on it.

"I don't want to be honest with you, right now," Ron admitted. "And I really do need to get dressed.  ...um... but I'm glad... about this."

"You're glad we kissed," Viktor's smile was opening up with his eyes.  Bright, shining, rows of perfectly straight teeth.  Ron blinked up at him.  Noting that the sun was higher and brighter.  That more light was in the room.  That Viktor glowed.

Ron didn't say anything.  Couldn't bring himself to even nod confirmation. He and Viktor wore their hearts on their sleeves and the kissing had definitely been charged more by relieved affection than sexual tension.

Ron knew he could handle being an object of lust.  A tool for petty revenge, even.  His heart trembled at the fearful prospect of loving and being loved in return.

"No worried little faces during the wedding," Viktor instructed as he pressed a final kiss to Ron's forehead.  He even reached up and gave one of the hands Ron had slid around his neck a little squeeze.

As Viktor pulled away, Ron found himself curling up in his blanket. Far less enthused about starting his day than he was about making out with the man that was now standing over him.

Dress robes of a fine material fluttered about Viktor's shoulders as he cast a spell on himself to blow out wrinkles.  In the sunlight, Ron could see the man was in the same red color that his Durmstrang uniform had been made of.  This time with dark brown slacks and a brown, muggle blazer.  His red shirt and robes reminded Ron of a cherry cordial dripping sweet syrup down his lips.  He audibly gulped at the thought of licking candy from Viktor's neck and shoulders. Tried to focus on Viktor's -neck- and Viktor's -shoulders- because he could see the long bulge of Viktor's hard cock beneath the starched fabric of his slacks.  

Viktor's eyes flicked down to him after inspecting his outfit. Let his pelvis turn and thrust ever so slightly, forward. "Like what you see?"

"You always ask embarrassing questions. Merlin's beard," Ron complained.  His face, neck, and chest grown hot with the implication.

"I've never before had the pleasure of seeing someone blush just because I asked an question.  Indulge me, Ronald," Viktor responded. Begged.  Ron wondered if he knew he was biting his bottom lip and fondling at the wand he'd just finished using.

"Are you going to finally leave?  So, I can finally get dressed?" Ron asked.

"Sure," Viktor offered.  He flicked his wand several times.  Turning on the room's brightest lights and levitating the white, dress shirt Ron hadn't noticed laying on the end of his bed. "Need anything else, before I go?"

Yes.

About a million more kisses, honestly.

"Viktor, Go!"

Viktor smiled, again before bowing out of the room.  All his teeth showing. His face flushed.  Mood bright and full of joy. A smile Ron remembered from another happy wedding.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione's brow perked at Ron as he approached the mingling wedding party, outside.  The rest of the guests were inside waiting for the bridesmaids and groomsmen to finish their photoshoot.  The groom was in the front yard with another photographer.  The bride was inside the house taking dramatic shots on the stairs.  Molly had insisted that it was bad luck for Harry to see Ginny before the wedding.  So, the ceremony was to end before the sun started to set.  That way, they could have perfect lighting for their first photos as a couple. 

Hermione had scoffed at the tradition during her own wedding.  Had even finished getting ready, early, and used her free time to help Viktor prepare.  Molly had been horrified by Hermione's antics and, though subtle, tried to remind the girl of her wedding day 'mistakes' when she and Viktor finally announced their divorce.  

"Ronald," Hermione said once he took his place by her side, her voice as haughty as any grade school know-it-all.

"Don't. Please, not now," Ron interrupted.  It could have been about anything.  She could even be telling him that his hair, carefully styled by Viktor before he'd come down the stairs, was falling out.  He was just pretty sure she had something annoying to say.  Could feel it, honestly.

"Well... hmph," Hermione said, fighting not to cross her arms.  Ron noted that she seemed agitated.  That it would be less selfish, on his part, to let her air whatever grievances she had.  He knew, however, that Hermione was far better at faking a good mood.  If she unloaded her own burdens, he'd ruin Ginny's photos.

"I'm sorry, Mione, I just... I need to be able to smile for this," he confessed while leaning closer to her.  He glanced over enough to see doubt streak across her face.  She banished it in an instant.

"I wasn't going to say anything mean," she said.  Her tone softer.  She paused for a long moment. Obviously completely changing whatever subject she'd been about to bring up. She slid her wand out of a hidden pocket on her dress. "Just... I hope nobody else recognizes that you're in a Bulgarian shirt.  I can disguise it, if you like."

Ron looked down at the shirt Viktor had tailored for him.  The collar was mandarin in style.  The buttons concealed by a thin strip of fabric.  There was white embroidery  across his collarbone that caught the sunlight when he moved. It was a garment favored by rich, Bulgarian wizards.  Ron gently touched the front of his shirt with the tips of his fingers.  Mapping the subtle texture of the expensive fabric.  He knew Hermione probably  meant that she hoped his mother wouldn't notice.  Wouldn't make a fuss about him changing her plans for his outfit at the last minute.  Yet, he liked the idea of Viktor watching the ceremony and seeing his clothes on his body.  Would it smell of him when he gave it back?  Would Viktor hold it to his nose and think of how he missed Ron?

For the most part, Ron tramped around in ill-fitting hand-me-downs.  Was it so wrong to want to look his best at Ginny's wedding?  Was it so wrong that he looked better in this shirt than any other he'd ever worn?

"Um... I think I can survive it, but thank you for offering," Ron said, his hand sliding down the front of the shirt.  Stopping and pulling away when he noticed Hermione's eyes narrowing at him.

"Your hair looks nicer than usual, too," Hermione squinted up at what could only be described as a pompadour. "Are the sides shaven?"

Ron immediately chuckled.  Viktor had asked him for trust but Ron's heart had still nearly leapt out of him when the sensation of his hair being magically snipped began.  The ghostly "scissors" had felt far too close to his scalp.  In that moment, Viktor had started to sing to him.  Again, in Bulgarian.  A heavy hand on Ron's shoulder to calm him. Squeezing. Caressing. Distracting. Ron had closed his eyes, then.  Taken a deep breath and let Viktor finish the job.

He'd opened his eyes to a conjured mirror and inspected himself with mounting joy.  He looked... cool.  Like a star quidditch player, himself.  With the shirt and haircut, he could even pass for a rich wizard visiting from abroad.

"Damn, you look good," Viktor had congratulated both Ron and himself. Giddiness had bubbled up in Ron at the compliment just as anxiety over his mother's possible reaction splashed through his mind. "Your mother will be so relieved you've finally cut your hair.  I don't think she'll even care that it's a trendy style."

Ron realized, as he turned his head from side to side, that Viktor was right.  His heart even warmed at the thought that Viktor knew his family well enough to immediately guess that his mother was the first thought in his mind.  They weren't in the bedroom, at the moment.  They were standing in a hallway where anyone could pass.  Though Ron doubted anyone would.  He leaned closer to Viktor, hoping the conjured mirror was large enough to mask them from view, just in case someone popped up at the end of the hall.  As his face neared Viktor's, Ron noticed that the mirror grew.  Viktor was shielding them.

Chaste.

Sweet.

Grateful.

Ron pressed a small kiss to Viktor's mouth.  Whispered thank you against his lips before pulling away. Didn't feel shy or nervous about doing it.  Least of all because he knew Viktor would think it sufficient payment for saving Ginny's wedding from Ron's bumbling.

"I hope that becomes a habit," Viktor responded.  Delighted emphasis on "that" and a grin on his face.  Ron turned away from the grin.  Still not used to Viktor being quite so expressive.

"Hello," Hermione snapped her fingers in front of Ron's face. "If I'd known you'd space out at mention of it, I wouldn't have brought it up.  You look fine, Ron.  Your mother will be so happy you cut your hair after years of being stubborn, Ginny's gonna LOVE the style, and I think you look marvelous, too.  Don't worry!"

Ron felt guilty that his reminiscing made Hermione think he was growing anxious.  "No, not worrying, just... Viktor cut it.  I was kind of..."  He couldn't tell her he was remembering their secret kiss in a hallway.  Especially not that he'd been the one to initiate said kiss.

Hermione sighed relief at the mention of Viktor.  "You two are getting along, then?  I'd worried he was in your room, this morning, to have a row or something. I was going to tell you to be nicer to him because he's not mean, at all.  I knew if you two were quarreling, it's your fault, Ronald."

Ronald winced at the truth of her words. Every rift between he and Viktor had been his own making.  Viktor had always tried to be kind to him.  Was immediately doting and full of love when Ron finally let him back in.  Ron's hands went to his collarbone to fondle the embroidery, there.

Hermione paused.  Squinted at Ron for the millionth time.  "Is that... Viktor's shirt you're in?"

"Ah, look!  Photographer needs me to move," Ron gave Hermione an apologetic look as he slid out of earshot to allow the photographer space to capture she and Luna's bridesmaid gowns.

* * *

The wedding was so heavily attended that there was no way Molly would notice Viktor's haphazard gryphon napkin constructs at the reception.  Viktor's only fear was that the table he and Ron had ruined was designated for press.  So, earlier in the day, he'd found his own place-setting and Ollivander's to trade napkins with.  The last thing he needed was a moving photo of his fat, little, limping gryphons to hit a newspaper.  He watched from his seat near the front as Ollivander immediately picked up his own napkin without looking at it, shook the gryphon shape from it, and tucked it into his shirt.  With a sigh of relief, Viktor did the same.

He'd tried his best to not stare at Ronald Weasley during Harry and Ginny's wedding.  It had been easy at the beginning.  There were new flowers and conjured birds to watch.  The live band had floated around the yard leaving trails of jewels and stars above the guests.  

Even Ginny, whom Viktor had never truly looked at before, had conjured feelings of awe as she walked across the yard to meet her husband.  As instructed, she'd apparated to the end of the Gryffindor-red carpet in a burst of golden sparkles.  She was then joined by three small children meant to carry her train and Arthur who took her arm.  Arthur, as expected, was already openly weeping which only served to set Harry crying, as well.  At least Harry could manage to keep his face still and smiling through the tears.

Ginny's dress was the most obnoxiously extravagant thing Viktor had ever laid eyes on... and he was a man that had visited palaces all over the world.  Knew opulence both fresh and ancient, and never thought he'd see any of it topped.

There was so much magic imbued in the garment to keep the twinkling details in place that the guests could feel the spells thrumming with life and love.  Molly's magic draped across Ginny's chest and shoulders.  Close to her heart.  Hermione's magic swirled around Ginny's hips to maintain her modesty.  Ginny's brothers had hung spells across her skirts and down her train to give her the support only a strong group of loving brothers could. Luna's magic sent every elegant creature imaginable galloping over the whole dress. Neville had conjured a forest and fields of beautiful flowers from all over the world. Harry was the most subtle but strongest of all.  Viktor felt his heart swell at the realization that her wedding party had made her entire dress.  That her husband's magic danced down her back, clung to her wrists, and softly caressed her throat in the form of pearl buttons and diamond charms.  It was the most romantic thing Viktor had ever seen or heard of.  

The gathered witnesses had a laugh when one of the soft, feathered angel wings at Ginny's back attempted to stretch itself out, nearly taking a row of guests with it.  Hermione's wand was out in a split-second, lacing the wing down with a shimmering, gauzy ribbon.  Molly had chuckled her apology from the front row.  Said that her constructs were always a little too wily.

Ron's eye met Viktor's then.  They smiled to one another. A secret smile about a shirt in the woods.

For the rest of the ceremony, Viktor only had eyes for Ron.  Sure, he'd blinked over to catch Harry and Ginny giggling through their vows.  Had even spared them a glance when they kissed.  Yet, he couldn't stop himself from watching Ron cry at the beauty of his baby sister.  Smile at the happiness of his best friend.  Grip hands joyfully with Hermione as they both held back the urge to hug Harry and Ginny.  Bit back the urge for immediate congratulations.  The two of them were proud of the newlyweds and it was a delightfully intimate thing to witness.

Viktor sighed as he realized he felt no jealousy at the gesture.  Some part of him already knew Ron was his and nothing would pull them apart.  It felt silly to be so cocky about forever after living through a divorce.  Well, despite all appearances, Viktor enjoyed being silly.

Even at the reception, he'd gotten a kick out of Ron trying to ignore his smirking face during the toast.  Despite not officially being Harry's best-man, Ron had still been expected to give a speech.  His nerves were obvious, but he looked so good standing up in front of everyone holding a sonorous charm to his throat.

Not a soul whispered through him talking.  Not a soul looked away.  Even the children paid attention and laughed at his jokes about the more mundane parts of his friendship with Harry.  If the press had expected tales of fighting dark wizards and sentient plants scarring his forearms in his first year, they'd been sorely mistaken.  Ron told softer tales of their first time going to a pub together.  Of Harry crying tears of joy into Ron's shoulder, years ago, when Ginny had asked Harry to move in with her.  Of how furious his mother had been when Ginny dropped to one knee during a family cookout the previous year and proposed to Harry with a golden snitch novelty ring from a candy shop.

Arthur piped in that Molly had been inconsolable for days.  Lamenting over her too forward daughter and gratitude that at least they'd found a son in law that could handle her family's eccentricities.  Harry murmured that he wouldn't have it any other way.  Ron winked at Ginny, announced that he was proud of her, wished he was at least half as brave as her, and then wrapped up his speech.

Viktor wondered if Ron was aware of how well he could captivate a room.  How handsome he looked.  How charming he was.

* * *

 

Ron lingered only long enough to take a few more photos during the reception.  He'd watched Viktor eat quickly and leave the tent just after Harry and Ginny's first dance.  When Molly declared herself done with the wedding party and focused on the bride and groom, he slipped away to find Viktor already waiting for him on his bed.

The house was empty and Ron imagined all the things the two of them could accomplish before anyone else left the lively reception. It was truly a disarming sight.  Viktor stretched out on his small bed in full dress robes and chocolate brown leather shoes with shiny, red polish.

"Do you want to get changed and go find your shirt?" Viktor asked as he sat up and unclasped his red robes, letting the fabric fall heavily to be bed underneath him.  Ron didn't comment on the fact that Viktor could have changed before he'd arrived.  Was starting to figure that the Bulgarian had some kind of exhibitionist tendencies.  Decided to indulge them by watching, this time.


	6. Chapter 6

Viktor asked for help with his shoes, picking a foot up off the floor and holding it at a low angle that would require Ron to kneel.  The request coupled with the gesture combated so heavily with Viktor's tendency for sweetness that Ron paused about halfway to the floor, wondering if it was some kind of joke.  He watched Viktor lean back on the bed.  His big hands splayed to hold him up. 

"Ronald, we can't stay alone in your room for too long.  Hermione noticed, this morning, did she not?"

"Uh..." Ron found himself on his knees in front of the lounging form of Viktor Krum. His slacks tightened over his thighs as his knees touched the floor.  He squirmed.  Shame quickly warmed Ron's cheeks as realized he'd already started growing hard at even just the prospect of touching Viktor's bare skin.

Ron's fingers slid, reverently over the shiny leather of Viktor's oxford before he untied the thin, red lace. "She mentioned it.  Thought we'd been fighting until I told her you were the one who cut my hair."

"Hmmm, did she really think I'd fight you?" Viktor asked with his eyes on the bare ceiling. 

"She told me to be nice.  That if you and I had problems, she'd know they were my fault," Ron elaborated, one hand holding Viktor's ankle as the other slid off his shoe.  He knew they could both undress in an instant, using magic.  That they could transfigure their clothing and even use magic to get rid of or prevent most stains.  He liked this, though.  Getting an eyeful of Viktor's broad body while Viktor's head was tilted back.  Touching Viktor's calf.  Serving Viktor. "She um... got suspicious about me wearing your shirt, though."

Viktor chuckled and Ron could see his shoulders shaking. "Did you get her permission?"

Ron paused just as he'd begun to slide a silk, trouser stocking down Viktor's calf.  His fingers tucked under the starched leg of Viktor's pants.

"Did you get Hermione's permission to steal her ex-husband?"

Ron's fingers trembled over Viktor's muscular leg.  He looked up and found Viktor had pushed forward enough to look down at him.  Again, the sweetness and the smile didn't seem to match the words or their positions. Ron felt as if he were slowly entering a trap, but his body thrilled at the prospect of just letting himself be caught.  His cock throbbed beneath his slacks, likely pulsing visibly between his thighs if Viktor could see that far down.  Ron's eyes slid down the Bulgarian's torso and he couldn't quite see anything with the man's knee in the way.

Viktor parted his legs, ever so slightly.  Showed Ron the way his swollen cock filled his trousers.

Absently, Ron licked his lips.  He'd never had a cock in his mouth.  Well, his own... when he was younger and more flexible.  He wondered how Viktor tasted.  Wanted to know how hard Viktor would have to fight to stay quiet if he sucked him in just the right way.

"Do you think she'd tell us it's ok?" Viktor asked.  One of his hands slid into view.  Caressing his own bulge.  Ron realized he was staring but could not look away.

"I don't think... I think she'd say it's not up to her what either of us does, now.  I think she's... weird," Ron said.  Being as clear as he could be with his mind running circles around his own arousal.

"She'd given us permission, before," Viktor confessed.  "Told me she'd be an accommodating wife.  That I could go wherever and have whomever I wanted.  Not sure she knew what I wanted was you, at the time."

Ron's eyes flicked up to meet Viktor's.  He knew the conversation was strange.  Heavy, even.  That it should have turned him off to speak about Hermione so casually.  At least Viktor's hand wasn't moving, anymore.  Just sitting there.  Curved over Viktor's bulge. Showing off his impossible girth without meaning to.

"The guilt ate at me," Viktor continued.  "To be offered my pick of the whole world by my wife and have my focus land on her best friend. I never wanted her to know... and in being guilty, I was less of a husband than I should have been."

"So, it's my fault you two divorced?" Ron's brow scrunched at the thought.  He'd wished them ill from the beginning.  Had experienced his own brand of guilt when their marriage finally ended, months ago.  Had spent every family gathering avoiding Viktor's eyes in case the man saw right through him.

Viktor outright laughed. The noise shocking Ron out of new guilt.  "No, Ronald.  Don't be silly," said Viktor with a chuckle.  

"Hermione and I ruined our marriage," Viktor said. "She loves her work, too much.  I quit quidditch for our marriage and followed her everywhere.  She'd still stay in laboratories and libraries from dawn to dusk.  She'd eat dinner with her colleagues. I knew, before we got married, that she was not a physical person. The lack of passion, I could handle, for her.  But, with the way she worked, there was nothing left of her mind, for me, when she got home at the end of every day.  I was lonely."

Ron decided not to respond.  In some way, he'd known that about her even when they were teenagers.  She was so quick to act.  To run, jump, hex and punch.  Never quick to kiss or to touch with gentle fingers.  Hermione never leered the way other girls did when he was winded and sweaty from quidditch practice.  Hermione approached love-making with the same academic interest she approached everything else.  Ron had never been bold enough to try and pique that interest. Never thought to slyly offer Hermione his body for study.  He only felt slightly jealous that Viktor Krum had found the way to woo her outside of seduction.

And wasn't that what Viktor was doing, now?  Coaxing and offering?  Being patient as Ron found his own reasons to to ask for or even just take more.  Ignoring his own loneliness for however long it took Ron to give him something worth having.

Making a resolution, Ron pressed a kiss to the closest part of Viktor.  The top of his foot.  His lips touching the silk stocking with no repulsion or hesitation. Some part of him wanted to sob.  He couldn't place the feeling, really.  Was it relief that none of this had been his fault, after all?  That Viktor and Hermione bore him no ill will for being a morose shadow for the past seven years? That Viktor wasn't simply responding to his stifled infatuation but had obviously wanted him, too?

"But what I'm asking, Ronald, is who's permission do you need?" Viktor asked, pulling his foot out of Ron's worshiping hands and leaning over the edge of the bed to press a kiss to his forehead.  Ron pushed himself from the floor to meet Viktor for a real kiss.  This one as chaste as the one they'd shared in the hallway. Lips against lips

"Permission?" Ron asked, as he crawled closer to the bed.  Viktor opened his legs wider to accommodate Ron's approach.

"You hold back.  I can see the tension in you.  It's always been there.  If not Hermione, then why?"

Viktor groaned when Ron's chest met his crotch.  He couldn't help but frot against Ron's thick muscles and Ron thrilled at the idea that Viktor, despite their conversation, was as irrevocably horny as he was.  That something had to happen soon or they'd both explode.  

Was there any point to finding an answer or explanation?  They were past that. At least for the moment, Ron wouldn't be able to hold back if he tried.

With purpose, Ron moved his shoulders to allow his chest to rub against Viktor's clothed bulge. A slow and deliberate shimmy that made the Bulgarian glare at him.

"You always avoid my questions," Viktor scolded before a moan. "I'm going to bring it up, again, later."

He was already sliding the fingers of his left hand into Ron's hair.  Pulling Ron up to meet his lips.  When the redhead was nearly standing, Viktor looped his right arm around the shorter man's waist and pulled him onto the bed.  They both lay across the mattress in a giggling, kissing pile.

"Later, then," Ron agreed.  His hands unbuttoning and then pushing at Viktor's blazer.  If he did nothing else but kiss Viktor's naked chest before cumming in his underwear, it would be worth all the trouble.


End file.
